


To the Victor, Goes the Katsudon IV

by DestiniesEntwined



Series: To the Victor, Goes the Katsudon: A Series of Unrelated YOI Post-Ep Works [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestiniesEntwined/pseuds/DestiniesEntwined
Summary: Emotions running high, will the power of love overcome the stress of winning the Cup of China?Filler scenes and Post-ep for Episode 6.Angst & fluff!





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't read a lick of fanfiction this week. But was inspired by a lot of analysis going on in the fandom...so I figured it was time to get heady and angsty...but always fluffy overall...
> 
> Wanted to get this up before today but oh well...stupid adulting getting in the way, lol.

The trek back to their room at Hotel Nikko New Century was a long and laborious three blocks with the weight of a completely inebriated Russian, unsteady on his own two feet and clinging to his favorite little piglet. Victor babbled incoherently about finding a hot spring while Yuuri focused on staying upright and getting Victor back unscathed.

The sober brunet couldn't figure out whether this man, the love of his life, was annoying or endearing at the moment. Sure, Victor was drunk-fucked up beyond all recognition. Sure, his stripping antics got them all kicked out of Chuanxiang Hot Pot. But god, was he beautiful naked. It was just as much embarrassing as it was enticing. Victor couldn't keep his hands off of Yuuri, hugging him, touching him, leaning into him and saying things that Yuuri wanted to hear from him sober. The constant physical contact set his skin ablaze as the hot magma of unexpressed feeling churned and rose high in his throat.

It was when a completely nude Victor tackled Yuuri to the ground, sending an empty sake bottle and a dish flying as he kissed Yuuri's jaw and proclaimed that Yuuri was 'his and only his', that the server came over, let out a shriek and ran for a manager. Yuuri got Victor to put _some_ of his clothing back on-at least his pants-before the man of the house came rushing over. With many apologies and having left a generous gratuity for the trouble, they left with minimal issue.

After what felt like forever, they made it to the promenade in front of Hotel Nikko. The doors slid open with a hiss, and the radiance of the bright golden lobby shocked both men into a higher state of alertness. Shielding his eyes from the glare, Victor still steadied himself with an arm around Yuuri's shoulders, but was able to stand upright and walk a little straighter as they headed for the elevators.

"You're sure you've got this?" Yuuri asked, unconvinced as he hit the button for the 28th floor.

"As long as I've got you, yes," Victor said with lop-sided grin and half-mast eyes, his words thick with his Russian accent as he slurred out an adorably sentimental mess.

Yuuri blushed at Victor's words. All night, the more Victor had to drink, the more unusually flirtatious comments fell from his lips. Yuuri fought between dismissing them as drunk ramblings and wanting the old adage to be true: "A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts."

It had actually bothered the younger skater that his coach never actually commented on the personal nature of his declaration at his press conference two months ago. He was trying to figure out if Victor really _was_ that air-headed, or if he was purposely avoiding the topic. Both ideas stung his developing pride. He thought his hints had been pretty obvious as of late, the biggest one being him stating on live television that he loved Victor and wanted to hold onto him.

_I'm pretty sure my family and friends understood. Everyone's been treating me a little differently lately...giving me little smiles and talking more sweetly than usual about Victor. How did he not understand?_

Then, it finally dawned on him, as Victor droned on: his drunken English smattered with random Russian vocabulary.

_Victor's Japanese isn't very good. Maybe he didn't really understand the connotation?_ he sighed as the obvious issue finally became clear. _I never talked with him about it, and only Yuko-chan and Minako-sensei really speak English other than me. I doubt either of them were courageous enough to sit there and explain it to him._

He steeled his nerves and decided that at some point he would have to ask Victor about it-when he was _not_ completely obliterated.

They made it out of the elevator and down the hall to their room. As Yuuri fished into his jacket pocket for the key card, he was suddenly caged against the door between Victor's arms.

"How do you do it?" Victor purred in his reverberant baritone against Yuuri's ear.

"Ehhh?" he exclaimed as a shock shivered throughout his body.

"How...d'you make me sssuch a wreck?"

At first, Yuuri didn't know how to take the question.

"Uhh, I am pretty sure it's the three bottles of sake that wrecked you, Victor." He retorted, trying desperately to ignore the burning sensation that begged him to give in to those beckoning blue eyes. _He's WASTED._ Turning away, he tapped the card to the door to unlock their room, and turned the handle. "C'mon, let's get inside before we wake someone up."

Victor side-stepped into the suite, which boasted two bedrooms with a king-size bed in each, a large two-sink bath with shower _and_ whirlpool tub, as well as a large sitting area complete with couch and television. He flung his jacket and sweater unceremoniously onto the nearest chair.

"Yuuri, I'm not insulting you, I'm... _com-_ hic _-complementing_ you," his said, stumbling over himself a bit as fumbled for his English. "It's a _good_ thing...right _here."_

Victor put his hand over his heart, and Yuuri's jaw went slack.

_Is he...confessing to me?_ Yuuri questioned himself.

Victor stepped up and enveloped him in a hug. Cautiously, Yuuri reciprocated. His ravishing Russian's face was in his neck as he mumbled. "I can't- _hic_ -let you go... _don'lemmego_ , okay?"

All Yuuri's frazzled brain could manage was a hum of agreement. The embrace lingered much longer than any one they had ever shared. It was gentle and quietly cozy and he could hear Victor's breathing soften, as if he were falling asleep standing up. Yuuri smiled into Victor's hair.

"Hey, let's get you to bed, all right?"

"Only if you come with me," he murmured sleepily. "You're _soooo warrrrm_ 'n' cuddly."

Yuuri sighed, his resolve crumbling under the deluge of desire. This is something he has wanted to allow himself for months. But he had denied Victor's every request. But they were nearly a thousand miles from home, with no one to infringe on this perfectly peaceful privacy.

"O-Okay."

Victor grabbed the sides of his face, giving the impression that he was about to lean in for a kiss. Yuuri's life flashed before his eyes, as his sensibilities slipped through his fingers.

Victor pinched his cheeks with a chuckle, and Yuuri's mind came to a screeching halt.

"I'm tired, kobuta-chan, let's go to bed. We have t' be up...earrrrrrrly," he said silver hair swishing aroung his rosy, sake-induced blush, speaking as if it was _his_ idea in the first place.

At this point, Yuuri questioned his own sanity, but followed suit and stripped down to his briefs and his t-shirt and headed over to the other side of the bed.

Victor turned down the blankets and slipped under them in nothing but his black underpants before patting the space next to him.

"Lose the shirt, Yuuri. I'll keep you warm, I promise." he drawled, flashing a still-tipsy smile and a playful wink.

Yuuri slid under the sheets next to the object of his affection, who pulled the blankets up over them and turned in toward him. Before the virginal protégé could register it, he was being pulled into Victor's arms and up against him, pressing their nearly naked bodies together.

Blue eyes riveted him with languid longing.

"You didn't say no..." he smiled drowsily before clutching him tighter. "I love having you _here_...like _this_..." He ran a warm hand down Yuuri's spine. "... _close_ to me."

Yuuri was burning up, their body heat spiked the temperature under the covers. He was tense with intense sensory overload. But he had to admit, he _liked_ how it felt.

"M-me, too," he confessed softly.

Eyelids slid shut behind lustrous locks, as Victor slipped into slumber. Yuri smiled and dared to plant a kiss on his forehead, knowing that there was a good chance that he may not remember much of this in the morning. As he settled back down into his fluffy pillow, he heard Victor hum contentedly and mumble one last thing.

"My Yuuri..."

And with a sough of breath, he was out like a light.

Yuuri just blinked at him, hoping that all these words were coming from a place that perhaps he may not have been ready to show him until tonight, but one that was deep in Victor's heart. Pressing his forehead to Victor's, Yuuri followed him down into the depths of dreamland.

Morning came all too soon and Yuuri's alarm went off on his phone. Slightly embarrassed as he realized he had used the alarm that was set to "Stay Close to Me", he attempted to peel himself from a stirring Victor's tight hold.

"Aw, I haven't listened to this in nearly a year," Victor said through a yawn. "Don't turn it off...just hit snooze."

And he promptly drifted back off...as if completely unfazed.

_Does he remember everything?_

For a long moment he watched Victor's peaceful visage in the soft morning light. Remembering how content he was as he awoke from his nap on the plane to a snuggly head of silver hair. The scent of shampoo, freshly showered, wafted its way up, invading his senses. It was the first time he'd actually allowed himself a nap with his idol-turned-coach.

Now, after _this_ , Yuuri knew there was no going back. And if ever Victor should desire a nap, an embrace, or physical proximity of any kind, he would happily oblige. It was like a drug, and he couldn't get enough. Breathing in that familiar scent, he let his eyes shut for those last few harmonious minutes

On the second ring, he nudged Victor. "Hey...we really should get up."

With a groan, Victor released his hold on Yuuri. "God, am I hungover."

"I can't say I'm surprised at that," Yuuri snorted, recalling the chaos that ensued the night before.

"So...Yuuri...did I _ask_ you to go to sleep together?"

"Yes, you did."

"But... you actually _did."_

"Yes..." he admitted with a blush. "I did..."

"Ummm...I have to ask...what happened after Celestino showed up last night? I remember I went shot for shot with him...after that it's all kinda of a blur," he sat up, confused and unable to pinpoint any definite details.

Yuuri tried with all his might to not wear the disappointment on his face, and played it off as sarcasm.

"You got drunk enough to forget the end of the night, apparently."

Victor cringed, feeling the tiniest bit guilty as a mostly unclothed Yuuri crawled out from under the sheets.

_Wow...wait. Yuuri slept in the same bed with me, half-naked and cuddled? What else did I not remember?_

"No, really, though," he said a touch more seriously, grabbing Yuuri's wrist, stopping the younger man from getting up from the bed.

"Well, the short version?" Yuuri began, unable to fully restrain his frustrations. "You stripped naked in the restaurant and got us kicked out. I carried your drunk ass back...then you insisted on going to sleep together and I just couldn't say no. So, here we are."

Something about Yuuri's tone bothered Victor. He knew he was aggrevated about something. But now was not the time to get into it.

"Did you sleep well...sleeping with me, that is?" he asked, giving Yuuri an apologetic look.

Yuuri's heart thumped a little harder in his chest.

"Y-yes..." he replied, his whole demeanor softening. "It was... _nice_."

Victor wanted to scoop him into his arms right there, but stopped himself mentally, deciding to drop more hints in his usual way.

"Well, tonight, I want to _remember_ what sleeping next to you feels like."

Yuuri was so conflicted. He wanted to be hurt and frustrated. But when Victor said things like _that_ he just wanted to jump into his arms and finally know what it is like to kiss him.

"Well then, no getting plastered tonight, please."

"Deal," Victor affirmed with his radiant smile, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

After readying themselves for the day, the two of them hailed a taxi and headed over to Capital Stadium.

Upon arrival, Victor went to check them in and instructed Yuuri to head in toward the skater's locker room and lounge.

There he was met with a three terrified and apologetic faces. Phichit, Leo and Guang Hong cowered slightly as Yuuri's former rink mate handed him his phone and showed him what he'd done.

Yuuri's eyes went wide. His heart nearly stopped.

_Oh shit._

There on the screen, of Phichit's open Instagram account was an arial view of that crazy moment when Victor tackled him.

_"You can't have him, Phichit. He's mine, and only mine!"_

The feeling of dread that washed over him as he realized that Phichit had thousands of followers.

_The whole skating world is seeing this!_

"Phichit-kun!" he exclaimed, turning breight red.

"Gomen!" Phichit apologized, but admitted that he couldn't help himself while the other two through him under the bus.

_Now everyone's going to think I was fooling around before the competition!_ Yuuri panicked.

Yuuri was too busy freaking out to notice that his friends had backed away from him to make way for the notoriously lascivious Swiss skater approaching, whose eyes were set on his prey.

Suddenly, there was a hand caressing his ass...and it _wasn't_ Victor's. Yuuri went stalk still as the unwelcome advance made him _incredibly_ uncomfortable.

"Yuuri, why didn't you invite me?" asked the European skating star, Christophe Giacometti, entirely too close for comfort.

_Ugh, THIS guy. Why does he always have to hit on me?_ Yuuri thought as he froze.

"C-chris..." he stuttered, trying to pull out of his imposed proximity with an awkwardly polite smile.

"Looks like you got into shape," Giacometti said with a lewd grin as he gave Yuuri's as a squeeze before letting him go. "Guess you _master_ 's giving you very _thorough_ training."

Little did either other them notice that Yuuri's 'master' approached.

As Victor came down the hallway, he stopped dead in his tracks. There stood the _last_ person he wanted to see, inappropriately close to the one person who mattered. Victor's heart jumped into his throat as he watched Chris's hand slide off of Yuuri's ass, just to come to rest on his shoulder.

Victor grit his teeth. For the first time, he was feeling _infringed upon_ when it came to Yuuri. Although it was no surprise that the lothario of the skating world would set his sights on him, Victor's blood still boiled.

With a deep breath he collected himself, putting on the most cordial expression he could manage and made sure to interrupt that slithering Swiss's advances.

"Chris!" Victor exclaimed with the most civility he could manage. "How's it going?"

Yuuri, relieved that Victor had saved him from the clutches of the notorious playboy, stepped back a moment, a bit embarrassed and wondering if he had seen Chris's overly familiar greeting. Standing aside, he watched them interact.

As he took in all the people gathering around Victor: Giacometti, his coach, some girls from the Russian team, even Yuuri's own younger friends and competitors who were getting fidgety in the corner with their phones in hand, he realized how many people respected and looked up to Victor. He was not the only one who had been affected by that magnetic, magnanimous man.

All the chatter around him seemed pointed _at_ him, even though they were talking to Victor.

He was once again pulled from his thoughts by the intruding playboy.

"Yuuri, it's a grave sin, keeping Victor to yourself," he said, admonishing the younger skater. "The whole world is waiting for his return."

Somehow, those words flipped a switch in his heart somewhere, deep down.

_Screw that. Victor came to me of his own accord. I'm not letting him go. I'm going to give it all I've got and prove all of them wrong about me, and about Victor's decision._

He didn't want to let his beloved go _ever._ But he knew that there may be a time when Victor would join him once again in the competitive ring, rather than stay behind the boards as his coach. But in that moment, during _that_ competition, Victor _was_ his, and his alone.

The thoughts churned and cycled through as he sorted out his motivation for this skate while jogging up and down the hallway. Spurred on by Phichit's passionate performance, he made up his mind not only to make his fans proud, but also to stun the pants off of Victor's fandom. He would make damn sure that they _knew_ , undoubtedly, that there was a good reason Victor was with _him._

Yuuri let that possessive spark smoulder. He was going to silence the nay-sayers and let them hate him for monopolizing the radiant Russian.

Victor kept his distance, noticing Yuuri's brooding disposition. He watched antsy, almost aggrevated, almond eyes burn with a yet-unseen determination.

_What's with that fiery face? It's dark, restless...and resolved._

He admitted to himself that it added to his magnetism, never having seen this side of him show before. Entranced, Victor watched Yuuri head off to skate up.

"Victor, is he all right?" Christophe asked, interrupting his moment of admiration. The last thing he wanted infiltrating his thoughts right now was Giacometti's voice.

Victor instantly shushed him, his eyes never leaving Yuuri's retreating figure.

"I've never seen Yuuri like this..." _And I want to see more._

Victor pondered what he wanted to say to him. Something that gave Yuuri a piece of his own heart, letting him know that his own feelings have grown for the younger man.

At the boards, as Yuuri readied for his short skate, Victor took Yuuri's hand.

"The time for seducing me by picturing katsudon and women during your skate is _over_ ," he said, giving his hand a squeeze. His eyes softened as his held Yuuri's gaze. "You can fight with your _own_ personal charm." He caressed his hand gently and added, "You can envision that just fine, _can't_ you?"

Of course he could. Both of them could, knowing now what it was like to wake up in each other's arms, skin to skin, warm and welcoming. The thought of waking up, reaching out and touching one another, caresses becoming kisses, kisses wandering, hands discovering, mouths partaking of heated flesh...the joining of bodies.

Envisioning left both men _wanting._

Suddenly he felt Yuuri take his hand in his, entwining their fingers as the brunet leaned in and took Victor by surprise. Pressing his forehead to Victor's, their faces even closer then that day in Hasetsu when he had to restrain himself from partaking of Yuuri's plump lower lip. Their noses brushed and a sweet rush of excitement zipped down Victor's back as fathomless dark eyes held his at rapt attention.

"Don't ever take your eyes of me."

He pulled back and skated away, leaving Victor breathless. He touched the spot on their foreheads met.

_He's far too different today...What's flipped his switch?_

Victor's mind swirled as the music cut through the quiet. He watched Yuuri lick his lips and throw him the sexiest glance he ever has. His breath hitched as he realized those feelings were _real_.

Yuuri skated his rebellion against the forces that wanted to tear Victor from him. He didn't care what those people wanted. Yuuri wanted Victor. He wanted to hear the man, whom he has adored for half of his life, look him in the eyes and call him ' _his_ Yuuri'. He wanted to fall asleep in his arms every night for the rest of his life.

He would show Victor and the world that he was worth every iota of Victor's love.

And he did...with one hundred percent perfection and a record breaking score.

Victor stood riveted until the last beat of the song, soaking in the immaculate technical execution mixed with such profound emotion.

As the strings struck the last three chords and Yuuri stood, arms wrapped lovingly around himself, Victor couldn't help but jump for joy at the sheer brilliance of that beautiful man.

_This...is his seduction...it's..._

"Perfect..." he finished aloud.

In that moment, Victor knew he had fallen, head over skates, for his beautifully complex, yet perfectly genuine little _'katsudon'_. Not only was he kind, caring, loyal and hard-working...he was impassioned, dark and _sexy_.

Little did Victor realize, completely enamored by Yuuri, that his former fling, Christophe, was watching Yuuri and Victor's reactions to him. Jealousy ran hot in the European's veins.

_Yuuri's totally different from last year..._

Yuuri went into his final spins, and he couldn't pry his eyes away. Until silver hair went flying as the Russian cheered raucously for his protégé.

_And Victor...he's actually in LOVE with him. He never looked at ME_ _that way. I was just a good lay._ Chris shook his head in disbelief at the most unlikely of relationships. _The two of them have become completely different people._

Victor called out to Yuri, who was heading off the ice.

"The kiss and cry is _that_ way," Chris scoffed from behind him.

Victor paid no heed to the scorned Swiss's jab and headed as swiftly as his feet would take him around the rink to Yuuri's side.

After the scores were revealed and the flowers and gifts were collected to be brought back by JSF staff to their hotel, Yuuri and Victor headed out back as Georgi took the ice. They would watch the rest of the performances from the green room.

The moment they had exited the main arena, Yuuri felt Victor's arm snake around his waist. This was a first. It was _always_ around his shoulders, because of the height difference.

This felt _different._

Victor stopped in front of a vending machine and offered, "Do you want something, Yuuri?"

Yuuri nodded in a momentary daze.

Victor assessed his state, thinking him merely fatigued.

"All right then, I'll grab us drinks and I'll meet you in the green room," he said, trying to sound more like a coach. Pulling him in closer he gave the baffled brunet an encouraging embrace. "You look like you need to rest."

Yuuri nodded, his gaze lingering on Victor a moment before turning and continuing down the hall.

_Victor seems more...affectionate...all of a sudden. Was that even possible? Something is different in his demeanor...Did my love reach him?_

Putting his thoughts aside he joined his friends in watching Leo's short program. It had just finished when Victor got back with water and Gatorade.

Yuuri cracked open the energy drink and took a few good swigs before Christophe got ready to take the ice. Victor had gone over to a nearby table to put their drinks down, and when he came back, he gave in to the urge to pull his _kobuta-chan_ close.

Yuuri felt his arm wrap around his right side, pulling him back slightly against Victor's chest as he leaned onto Yuuri's left shoulder, and holding him there with a gentle hand. This time his face grew hot, not with embarrassment, but from remembering how it felt to be close like this the night before in bed together. He had to swallow back that feeling that threatened to give him away. So Yuuri relaxed into Victor's embrace, finally allowing himself to be comfortable, and watched the last few minutes of the show.

The next hour went by in a blur of press. But being high on this beautiful feeling that Victor roused in him, a blushing, awkward Yuuri got up and declared that he and Victor would win with the power of love.

As they headed out of the arena to find dinner, voices beckoned for their attention. Friendly waves and promises of 'See you later!' were made to their fans, fellow skaters and other coaches.

Victor had whispered in Yuuri's ear, just before they left the press stand.

"Just smile and wave, and head for the door _without_ stopping. Tonight is just _you_ and _me._ "

Yuuri kept those sultry words on a constant loop as he passed by familiar faces and exited to a waiting escort. As they were about to get in to the vehicle, they were stopped by a certain hypersexual skater. His look told them he meant trouble. Green with envy, wrought with questionable intention, he narrowed his eyes and spat vindictive venom.

"Still not invited to your party? I see how it is _Nikiforov_ ," he jabbed, his sarcasm on the verge of malice. "You know, I tried to play it cool...tried to be the friendly sort. But you two are a closed circuit. So, what, we can't even be _friends_?"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd drop it, _Giacometti,_ " Victor said, returning the cold distance with pointed formality. "This evening, the only company we'll be keeping is our _own._ So now we bid you _'Adieu, Monsieur'._ "

And the enraged, yet amazingly collected coach promptly shut the door in the Swiss's face.

Yuuri was shocked at the accusatory words, and palpable tension in their exchange. He just stared at Victor for a moment, the mere _crack_ his usual calm exterior had him questioning the extent of what Victor knew of his carousing competitor.

Victor steamed in silence, beyond irritated that a few nights of drunken sex with the man nearly two years ago had turned into _this..._ an infringement on a happiness he thought he'd never find.

Both he and Yakov refused to see that he was perfectly capable of genuine love for something, even in the face of having lost it for quite some time. And their lack of respect was what hurt the most.

He finally dared to turn to Yuuri, whose eyes he could _feel_ boring a hole in him. Victor didn't put on a face to try and calm his love's nerves.

For the first time, he let Yuuri see his pain.

Yuuri's gaze softened.

"What on earth just _happened_ , Victor?"

Victor took Yuuri's hand in his, intertwining their fingers in reciprocation of Yuuri's earlier gesture. Sighing, he paused to soak in the warmth of their joined hands.

"Listen, I know there's a lot about me that you don't know. I realized that today, after pulling you further into this circle of acquaintances...and feel I owe it to you to be as honest with you as you have been with me."

Yuuri's heart fought a battle within itself, comforted by Victor's love and respect for him, and fear of the truths he may have for him. But he knew this was not a discussion to have over a public dinner.

"Ne, Victor...I was told that our hotel has good food and room service. I wouldn't mind staying in, especially after last night. We can talk all we want and not worry about privacy," Yuuri suggested, encouragingly. "You could take a bath and relax."

Victor hummed in agreement, his stress appeased by the thought of a private evening. When it came to the bath, he had other ideas.

"You mean _we_ , kobuta-chan... _we_ should definitely make use of that bath."

Yuuri blushed, realizing that maybe his seduction of Victor had worked a little _too_ well.

"S-sure."

Their hands remained clasped on the seat between them the entire ride back to the hotel.

Victor actually offered to carry one of Yuuri's two bags as they made their way up to the room, and the younger man was, once again, caught off guard by Victor's mellow gentility.

As had been habit as of late, they walked side by side, rather than the Russian being at least a step or two ahead. Their bond had strengthened so much in the last couple months, and they were both reeling from their innate need for continuous proximity, both in body and in soul. They constantly dug at each other. Late night conversations they had were about anything and everything, keeping them together into the wee hours of the morning.

And finally, they had broken bigger barriers. Last night and today, something felt raw, uncovered and new.

Finally back in the room and in comfortable clothes, they picked from the menu a feast of native cuisine.

Victor set the phone back down after finishing the order and went over to the mini-fridge, pulling out two bottles of Tsingtao.

"Here," Victor said as he handed one to Yuuri. You have the day off tomorrow...and you've earned the night cap."

Yuuri put his phone on the stereo dock and played his favorite late-night playlist of calm, instrumental music. They sat side by side on the plush couch in their salon area.

Victor looked at him and exhaled.

"There's a lot to be told...So this may be a lengthy monologue, but here goes nothing." Victor took a swig of his beer before beginning. "Russia is no place for a man who loves men. I have been mostly closeted my whole life, except to those few who know me well...and my family...from whom I have been estranged for the better part of a decade."

Yuuri's eyes went wide.

"My father always was a heartless bastard, but it killed me to leave my mother," he said, a small grimace distorting his features. "She was the only one who tried to support me and love me despite my being a _'family disgrace'_."

"But Victor, you are Russia's living legend...how could they _not_ be proud of you?" Yuuri asked gently, trying to wrap his brain around the idea that his own family didn't acknowledge his accomplishments.

"Because they pretty much disowned me when I came out at eighteen," he paused and scoffed. "Well less 'came out' and more 'was caught with my lover'... My father kicked me out. Yakov being my coach, and I his meal ticket, he took me in...I haven't spoken to my family since. Although, I know I saw my mother in the crowd at a couple of national competitions over the years and at the Rostelom Cup two years ago. She never tried to contact me, though. And I live with the guilt that she got badly injured when she stood up to my father for me."

"He hit your mother?!" Yuuri cried, terror written across his features as he tried to picture his parents acting that way.

"He gave her a beating that night, and she had fractured ribs and a broken nose."

Tears welled in those deep pools of sorrow as he thought of his mother's love for him. He rarely let himself discuss the guilt and sadness he had long buried under his bravado and confidence.

"I last saw her the night before she was released from the hospital. I has been nine years."

He turned to Yuuri, taking both hands in his.

"Yuuri, you and your family are _so_ full of love. It's _beautiful_. And I...have been both thankful to be surrounded by you all, as well as a little jealous."

His face shuttered for a moment as he decided how to phrase this next thought.

"Yuuri, I am a man who has never truly believed in _love_."

The brunet froze, unable to breathe. _Does this mean everything I thought he felt-?_

"Until I met _you..."_

Yuuri's breath rushed out of him, shocked by the revelation. Victor continued.

"And _until_ I met you, I engaged in some pretty selfish behaviors: bouncing from affair to affair, playing hard-to-get when I felt like it, and generally being a bit of an arrogant prick. I skated to be the best...to throw it in everyone's faces, especially my family's, that I could don a mask and be whatever I wanted to be when I was on the ice. And I was just as unapologetic _off_ the ice."

Yuuri had such a hard time picturing his precious Victor in a negative light. Even if it was the past.

"Yuuri...the truth is that Christophe is making advances on you, and imposing himself on us... because he and I had an fling back about two years ago, during the Grand Prix. He's still mad at me for dumping him, and jealous of _you._ "

"You...and Chris..?" Yuuri got an unwelcome mental picture.

"Yeah well, he has his buckets of sex appeal, and when we first met I was in a place of 'hook up first, ask questions later'. He batted his long lashes at me and that was it."

Yuuri winced and Victor noticed.

"But after winning my fourth Finale, the boredom began to set in. I began getting bored with skating and bored with people who lacked substance. After the Finale two years ago, I just didn't care anymore, and never called him back. I just kind of shut everyone out...and held the world at arm's length."

It was quiet a moment before there came a knock at the door. Room service came in with a large cart full of food. Yuuri felt a little nauseous, now understanding what some people had rumored about him over the years, but never having been able to believe it. Now it had come straight from the horses mouth. They sat at their table and opened all the dishes in relative silence.

Victor was getting a little worried about what Yuuri made of all of this new information. He had just shattered what was a young boy's image of his idol.

"I'm sorry if I have disappointed you, Yuuri," he finally said putting his chopsticks down for a moment. "Apparently I've disappointed everyone _else_ that I've ever let myself care about."

" _Stop_ that, Victor," Yuuri commanded firmly, shocking the Russian with his unusual tone. "You haven't disappointed me. On the contrary, you have _enlightened_ me. You have opened _yourself_ up to _me_ , and shown me some of your own insecurities. How could I be disappointed by that?"

Victor's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. Yuuri's earlier ferocity had returned tenfold.

"I have given so much of myself to you, Victor Nikiforov, and I was wondering when you would finally return that trust...Thank You. I think we can finally see each other as equals now."

Victor got to his feet and stood beside Yuuri for a moment before dropping to his knees, hugging him around the waist and burying his face in the younger man's lap letting quiet tears fall. "I've been so _fed up_ with everything the last few years," he ground out. "I just gave up on the idea of love, and I had given up on myself."

"But I wouldn't give up on you, Victor," Yuuri confessed. Victor quieted, lifting his head to meet his deep dark depths with swirling seas. "I _know_...your faith has inspired me...you saved me from myself."

"That's _my_ line," Yuuri said, knowing _now_ was the time to ask. "So...I've been wondering about this since September: do you know what I _actually_ said on national television? Did you really understand my speech at the press conference?"

The clueless Russian sniffed, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes. He thought he had understood _enough._

"What? When you talked about your theme?"

He knew it. Lifting Victor up by the shoulders, Yuuri urged him to sit back seiza-style. Sighing in exasperation, he let it all out in a cascade of frustration.

"No, _baka_ , I told the world that you are the first person to _show_ me what love is really about!" He held Victor's face with this pleading look in his eyes. "You are the first person I never _ever_ want to let go of...and that what I feel...for _you_...is _love!"_

Yuuri's hot tears streaked his face as he continued to grip his love's shoulders. He couldn't take the agony of hold back the words he had been trying to purvey through his skating.

"Damnit, Victor..." He gasped, heart begging Victor to comprehend the immensity of his feelings. " _I love you..._ "

Victor's body lit from within. Synapses were rapid-fire as the impact of Yuuri's words broke through, a pickax smashing a gaping hole in the impenetrable façade he had built up over the years. It felt too good to be true.

"Even if I'm not the man you thought you knew? Even if I'm hiding, broken behind an illusion of confidence? Even if I have spent life running from myself?"

"Even if, Victor. I mean, I was such a poor excuse of a man when you found me. And you never gave up on me, in all of my weakness."

Victor's heart felt so full of light. For the first time in his life, someone other than his mother loved him unconditionally. And he loved Yuuri in return.

This was the turning point. There was no more denial between them. Only unapologetic love.

Victor's face brightened with a radiant and genuine grin. Laughing, he pulled Yuuri out of his chair and into his arms. They easily lost balance and tumbled to the floor.

"Is it normal to feel _this_ happy?" Victor asked his beloved as the brunet hovered over him, laughter cushioning his words. "This is amazing," he added as he held Yuuri's gaze.

" _You_ are amazing."

With a hand at the back of Yuuri's neck, Victor guided him closer as he craned his neck to meet him. Eyes slide shut to relish the warmth of tender tips melding under gentle pressure.

Victor knew that, just as it had taken them nearly eight months to get to this, that the blossoming of he and Yuuri's love would unfurl slowly and steadily; never rushed, but always sure. He sighed against Yuuri's mouth as languorous lips lingered, refusing to separate from from each other.

Finally Victor pulled back and smiled at him.

"I love you, too, Yuuri."

Yuuri's face brightened with utter jubilation as he scooped Victor into a tight squeeze. For a long moment they lay on the floor, reveling in their fervent embrace.

Until Victor stomach growled, reminding them both that their long-awaited dinner had gotten derailed.

With a laugh, they resumed their dinner, telling stories as they ate.

Yuuri finally had the emotional climax to his Free Skate: his love was recognized and embraced by his lover.

He would win by thinking of this very evening:

Confessions of Love. Sharing over dinner. Tickles and splashes in the bath. Cuddling close in bed and falling into the most peaceful sleep he would ever have.

Indeed, he _would_ win...with the power of love.


End file.
